


Weight

by s_a_b_i_n_e



Series: Destiel Oneshots (smut-free) [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Healing Love, Inspired by Fanart, Introspection, Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:55:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28831557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_a_b_i_n_e/pseuds/s_a_b_i_n_e
Summary: Dean lies awake at night with Castiel draped over his chest. He never thought he could be this happy.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Destiel Oneshots (smut-free) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2022302
Comments: 16
Kudos: 86





	Weight

**Author's Note:**

> The drabble was inspired by this [beautiful painting](https://crxstalcas.tumblr.com/post/640602597464719360/your-honour-this-man-is-so-touch-starved).

Dean should feel crushed by the heavy weight of his angel on top of him. He should feel claustrophobic due to the way Castiel takes his chance away to properly move, the way he is draped around him like an octopus. No, more like a boa, pinning him down on all the crucial places.

But Dean feels none of that. All he feels is safe and warm from the inside out. He feels anchored in a way that makes him realise how much he was floating all these years.

It's not that he never had a lover laying on top of him this way. Far from it. And it isn't the weight difference between a woman to a man. It's not the difference of soft, warm skin compared to the scruff that scrapes his neck right now. It's not the flat, firm chest or the muscled legs pushing into his side.

No.

It's the closeness that goes beyond physical touch. The closeness he maybe once felt with Cassie, then chased with Lisa. It's the feeling of being enveloped into love, and trust, and mutual understanding. A blanket of palpable promises of forever and truly.

It's a hard-won fight against God and himself. It's a moment of self-acceptance and vulnerability. It's all this and so much more, too many layers Dean is still too afraid to touch. Maybe one day, with Castiel's help, he will unravel all the bad memories, will look at the boy who had to grow up way too soon, who was a father before he was a man, who was so in need to care for the people he loved that he forgot that he was in need of care, too.

Maybe one day he will talk about his fears and internalised phobias, will show his softer side without being afraid of being seen as less a man for it. Maybe one day he will be able to be out and proud, not giving a fuck as much as he wants others so often to think he isn't giving when inside his emotions try to wash over him like a tidal wave.

But these are things for the days to come. Now? Now Dean just breathes in the scent of Castiel's skin, feels the arm under his head, Cass' breath on his neck, and the assuring weight on his chest that presses all the bad feelings away and makes his heart jump in the most beautiful ways.

He knows, he'll never let go of his angel and the other man will never do so either. They wasted so much time. Or maybe not. Maybe they needed this. Needed to lose each other again and again, needed to suffer through unsaid truths and the pain they brought. Maybe they needed all the sorrow and the strains and stains of their friendship to come to this very point.

Dean knows they did. Never could he have been lying like this, with a man who loves his very soul. Literally. It's not that he can understand how Castiel is able to love him without expectations. No, he's not quite there yet, but he's starting to accept Castiel's love. To accept that he might be worthy of love, that he deserves to have a slice of happiness, a slice of what other, normal people have. Not quite an apple pie life, but at least some crumbs of the sweet crust. Maybe he deserves that despite all the things he's done, that will haunt him forever.

Because the living, breathing, being weight draped over his chest is a silent promise of possibilities. Of knitting his broken pieces together. There will be chronic wounds and scar tissue. There will be dark moments and the urge to push this comforting weight away. But there will also be arms that stubbornly won't let go, and words spoken just right - tender or harsh, whichever way he'll need it then - laced with love and honest concern. And just as this weight, they will anchor him, settle down the unease in his chest and the knots in his stomach, will caress away the doubt and the self-hate.

Maybe one day, he will believe all the things Castiel speaks into his skin at night, will see parts of what Castiel sees when he's looking at him. He's not there yet, but he dares to hope. It's still a fragile feeling. But with every breath he takes, he is one tiny step closer to trusting it.

And so he stares into the darkness and whispers, "This is the happiest moment of my life."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Let me know what you think. 💙💚


End file.
